Mizpah

If you had a relationship with her in which you talk about things, I'd say MAYBE (MAYBE!) say something, but given that you barely know her, it's not appropriate in my mind. I wouldn't take kindly to it, especially given how difficult the situation already is for them.

I resent it. I don't resent my fellow widows - the opposite, not at all - I feel the hugest compassion and sadness for them. But I resent death so much. It's the ultimate "gift that keeps on giving," because even when you ARE happy, it's not pure (and I'm NOT saying I don't struggle with grief too or that I don't miss DH, just saying that my current life is (often/at times) a good one). It's not just like, "Yay!" It's like, "Yay! BUT: my poor dead DH AND my poor widow friends." Death. It tries to take everything.

And not because of DH not being able to be alive. What I mean is, do any of you who have recoupled or had children post-death felt guilty toward some of your widow/widower friends? Yesterday was Mother's Day, obviously. It was a terrible day for many of my widow friends, many of whom are about my age (mid- to late 30s) and who have spent recent childbearing years mourning, and who had wanted to be mothers and now feel/fear/know that they will not. I had a great day (took my 11-month-old daughter hiking up her 2nd mountain with her father and had a great dinner together later without the baby). I wanted to go on and on about what a great day it was (partly because it's been rough for a long time and things have been going really well). But I didn't. I felt terribly guilt about the women with whom I've become very close over the past four years. Widowhood is isolating, taking care of a baby is isolating, and having a baby as a widow is isolating. (I do realize I'm complaining because I'm so lucky and happy and can't share it, which is really quite a spoiled complaint, but still... it is what it is.)

yes

Uh, well, unless death is waiting around the corner of course. I don't regret at all wasting no time of the very short three years I had with DH and would deeply regret having "taken it slow" because it would've been the cautious thing to do according to everyone else. I'm not saying we should all jump into everything, even when there are red flags, but we know better than anyone that, in theory, waiting when you know can be a very dangerous risk.

http://digg.com/video/jon-snow-is-a-terrible-dinner-party-guest

I hear you - we were planning to go to Tahiti for his 30th birthday. Oops, died at 28. My brother and his wife just went to Tahiti on their honeymoon. I was horrified: Tahiti should have stopped existing when he died. Period. (Yes, I realize how irrational this is. Oh well.) I feel your pain!

F her. I'm sure your FIL loves you dearly, but in this he does not have your best interests at heart, or your child's. He is speaking either selfishly, or from a misguided IDEA of what things SHOULD be. He should be requiring a promise from his daughter to change her ways and beg forgiveness and redeem herself, and maybe he is. My advice to you is the advice I know your insides are giving you: stay away from her.

The lead-up and the day of the move were HARD. Really hard. Maybe the idea of it more than the reality. But AS SOON AS I was in the new place, it was like opening a window, or turning a corner onto a street I'd never gone down before - it was refreshing.

Big changes and death of a loved companion - makes total sense to me that you're hurting. It seems whenever things are bad or scary, the grief is like, "Wait for me, I'm here too, don't leave me out." It's so hard to compartmentalize, and you can't help but think all the "what if"s and miss them in those times of need. I'm thinking of you.

Everyone says slow down and I guess I agree (?), but with DH, by the end of the first day we hung out, I *knew*. Had met my family within a couple weeks, wedding bands within a couple months, changed my name in less than a year, etc., etc. My only caution would be the mental illness issue as well. We live in our minds, and if her bad times are real bad, so will yours be. That being said, I moved quickly with my new relationship (not on purpose really) and am now with a man who is EXTREMELY different from me and has depression issues. And we're making it work and love each other.

I'm so sorry. That stings. I often feel that everyone's birthdays would be forgotten were it not for facebook event reminders. I know that doesn't make it feel any better. I'm so sorry. Happy birthday! I hope you're doing something for yourself today, or lots of somethings.

Some sick widow humor: maybe the loss of trust in humanity is the key to serenity? Hahahahaha.

Totally unrelated to your statements, but when I had to move at 5 months, I wrote little love notes to him in pencil in places no one would ever probably see, like the inner wall of the closet, the wall that faces into the closet, like the same side as the door. I boxed things up then, including his dirty laundry, that are still in boxes in my father's attic to this day, waiting for me to one day go through them. I didn't have it in me then.

It wasn't until I sat down just now to respond that I realized how many things I did/do/have done in tribute to him. From the miniscule (like saying "strong but good" after the first bubbly sip of really bubbly seltzer) to the big stuff. Here are some of the things: - I "bought" a bench in the park where we used to go running and have picnics and read and stroll at night, on the East River in Manhattan. The donation goes to the upkeep of the park, and they put a permanent plate on it. It says, "Our love is here to stay" (a Frank Sinatra quote - we used to dance to the song in our kitchen while cooking), has his name and birth and death year, and then says, "my husband my heart my king my soul, i'm forever your rachel." - I bought a locket and have his photo in it, and put my wedding band on the chain too. There's also a "charm" that's a book sort of stamp "S" that I sometimes take off of it. - I planted a garden in my parents' backyard, in the shape of a heart, with plants with meaning (dogwood bc he loved dogs, a magnolia bc we met in the springtime and ran in the park where there were tons of flowering trees, a flower called heaven's gate, lots of fruit shrubs bc he loved to eat, etc., etc.), and put a bench in it that has his name and "in our hearts forever," which is what we always say to each other about each other in my family. - I learned Hebrew (his native language). - I had two trees planted in Israel, one for him and one for me. - I have a dinner each year on his birthday, where we toast to him and share memories and stories. - I send his mother flowers on her birthdays. - My daughter's Hebrew name is a very indirect, needs-to-be-decoded reference to his name/him.

So much of this resonated with me. In the beginning, I wanted to stop time and curl up permanently in the place closest to him, before time began to efface him and my memory of him. I wanted time to go on, to alleviate my suffering, but to stop to keep him with me. My baby's father is a widower, and his son was a bit less than two when his fiancee died. He's 4 1/2 now, and sometimes looks at stars and says one of them is her, and I think how sad it is that he won't remember her. It seems maybe he already doesn't, but only remembers remembering her, if that makes sense, or the fact of her death. Memory is such a strange and bewildering experience.

I remember very distinctly the feeling in the beginning that each moment took me further and further from him, that I wanted to stop, I didn't want to feel better, because I wanted to stay as close as I possibly could to him. Certain memories will stay and become even clearer. Others will slip away. Memory is a strange and slippery thing. I spent a lot of time writing down everything I could possibly remember, but so much of the stuff that really matters - the texture of a person's existence and experiencing them, the way they move, the way they smell, the way it feels to be near them, to interact, that amazing fluid space between two people - can't be encapsulated. And this is what we mourn. But he didn't *sacrifice* his life, it was taken from him. You do nothing wrong by being human and having a brain that acts strangely and that we do not understand. You loved him and you love him and he loved who you are, so he would love what you are doing, how you are surviving, and the way your mind works. None of this is your fault. You are a victim, too, of what took him, only you survived it to have to live without him. Be good to yourself - he would be good to you if he were here. But now you must do it for him. xo

Right now, life doesn't go on. Right now, you just grieve and suffer and miss her. Leave the rest for later.

I think I have a different perspective on this than most of us. I don't expect anyone to remember but me. In fact, I consider it a privilege that I was The One (his special person, and the one who holds him). Also, I try to forget the death date/anniversaries (though of course it doesn't work - 4 years yesterday), and to pin memories/commemoration to celebration of him, who he was, his life, his birth - I have a dinner every year on his birthday. Also, honestly, past one year, I find no one remembers monthly anniversaries, and no one but his parents even remember the yearly one until reminded. To me, this doesn't matter. To me, this has nothing to do with anything of any importance. Remember - HE's not forgotten, the specific date of his death is, and what does his death have to do with who he was? HE will never be forgotten. And sometimes, I think the best tribute we can give them is getting involved in the details of everyday life, living it. I'm sorry if my perspective makes you angry or feel worse.

I'd say no, unless your new spouse takes no role in that child's life, which would be weird. The child has a parent and a stepparent (and maybe the other natural parent, if the child still sees that person). Is that the wrong answer?

I'm four years out (today, actually), and my baby daddy is a widower. He was in the exact same position, and I think it's quite common for men. He was showered with female attention, but it was all with an agenda. I ended up being his closest friend, and I didn't even know him before he was widowed - he was working on my mom's apartment and so I reached out to him to pay forward the YWBB support I got. We texted for months, and that was his main grief support system - we got together later - I swear (I had no agenda, he initiated!!! I'm innocent!). I say use the $h!t out of the people who are available to you here. I still lean on my widow friends from YWBB from my same timeline, daily. It really doesn't substitute for real life friends/community, but it help gets you through. Maybe now is a good time to reconnect with old friends, or co-workers? Thinking of you.

She is beautiful! And a beautiful act.

I had a friend who was dating who was always always saying, "It's a numbers game." I hear him responding to you in my head right now, saying that the more dates you go on, the more likelihood of a second date. But basically I think each guy you go out with should stalk you for a second date because you're awesome! I hope for a second one for you soon! I'm sure you looked smokin'! (I hope this fool at least paid for dinner.)

Know what I'm never too old for though? The excitement, the obsession/infatuation, the feeling like the two of you are in a bubble and the rest of the world is in the background, in black and white. I think it's worth the awkwardness and the wondering, to get to that euphoric, invigorating stuff